Two Parts of a Whole
by Imaginarivalued
Summary: AU. In a familiar place, in a time unknown, foxes meet rabbits, the seeds of friendship sown. Or: Ballad of the Victorious Interspecies Childhood Friends.


It was a good day.

That scent of crisp air, the flush of the morning rays, that distinct hum of a slumbering neighborhood stirring from the land of dreams.

Indeed, it was going to be a good day.

A good day to say goodbye.

A _suitable_ day, the fox thought with a rueful smile, his gaze sweeping through the boutique.

They had cleared out everything days ago. The place was spotless now, with only the dull silver light of daybreak pooling in through the windows glossing the four corners.

He was never one to put off doing what needed to be done, to delay the inevitable. Which was why now, standing in the middle of the empty lobby, made him feel so out of sorts.

He scrolled through the mental checklist and found that, once again, all was accounted for. Just like the last seven times.

But still, there might be something he overlooked. Maybe the last time wasn't thorough enough. There might be something forgotten, something lying around, something that slipped past his notice. _Anything_.

A set of paws slipped around his left arm.

He tensed momentarily before breathing out and leaning into the touch of the muzzle that now rested against his shoulder.

"How are we feeling?" her ever warm voice asked.

A tender smile curled around his lips. "I should be the one asking that question. I'm not the one who's carrying an extra passenger all the time."

"I'm alright. No worse for wear." She smiled at him as she gestured to her rotund belly. "And so is our little stowaway."

He smiled back, tracing a paw over her stomach. It was good timing. He could feel small movements, which managed to shove down the melancholy momentarily. But it also served to remind him just why he was so pensive to begin with.

"I just wish...I just wish we had a little more time," he said with a sigh. "At least until after the baby gets here. To just have a little more _time_. To get things together, to make sure you're okay, that we're okay."

"We _are_ okay," she said. "We're doing what needs to be done, the best we can under the circumstances. You'll pull us through."

He smiled at her, heart buoyed by her words. It was short-lived, unfortunately, as the doubt in the pit of his stomach never ceased gnawing at the rest of him. "But what if I _can't_ ," he said, brows scrunched up. "What if I'm wrong again? I'm the one who got us into this mess in the first place. If only I—"

She placed a paw on the side of his muzzle. "None of that, you hear me? This isn't a mess. Trust me, I know what a mess looks like. I've been making messes every day until I met you. And don't you dare turn that into a potty joke."

The laugh came easy, especially with the way she grinned coyly at him.

"This isn't a mess, it's a _setback_ , and it happens to the best of us. You're right, things didn't work out this time, but it was through no fault of your own. Maybe it just wasn't the right time. Maybe we just had a stroke of bad luck. That's why we're cutting our losses. Sometimes life just throws you these hard pitches, and you just have to strike out. And this is just strike one. We'll get our chance to step up to the plate again."

"I know, but..."

"We've already talked about this, remember? You said it yourself, this is just the 'goodbye' before the next 'hello.'" She held his paws, that trademark smirk of hers in place. "We'll be back before you know it. Zootopia hasn't seen the last of us yet. Not if I can help it. Not after I just made a dork of myself with inspirational baseball analogies."

She always knew what to say, and how to say it. She knew how to make him smile and laugh. She was the one who kept him grounded when he felt he lost all substance of himself.

And she was right. Businesses may come and go, but this, this feeling that filled his heart to the brim with _something_ that could only be happiness, this want and absolute need to see her and their child get a chance at a better life. If that meant leaving Zootopia and the shop behind, it would simply be what he—what they had to do.

"You're right, as usual," he said softly, the heaviness draining from him as though a physical thing. "It's probably for the best. Besides, so long as I have you and our child, I have everything I'll ever need."

She laughed. "Cheesy, but points for speaking the truth, Mr. Wilde," she said as she kissed him on the corner of his jaw before wrapping her arms around him as best she could. "And don't you ever forget it."

He won't. Not the times they've shared and not this moment.

Never this moment.

They stayed huddled together for a few more minutes before wordlessly agreeing that it was time. He helped her out the door and into the car before heading back to lock the door.

All that could be done was done now. The time for a leave of absence had arrived, and they were going to exit backstage. He placed a paw on the glass panel of the door, caressing the faded outlines etched upon the frame.

 _Goodbye, Suitopia._

 _For now._

 _So, hold the fort, will you?_

 _We'll be back._

 _Promise._

Together, John and Monica Wilde finally drew the curtains and closed down shop. With the roar of the engine, they gave one final goodbye to their business and to their old home and began their first journey towards the world beyond the gates of the only world they've ever known.

* * *

It was all rather anticlimactic, really.

They had already bid their farewells to those who mattered, few as they were, and after tying up whatever loose ends the best they could, what they owned fit snugly into the trunk of their ol' trusty cherry red Chevy Chevroneigh.

They passed the Zootopia high-speed rails on their way towards the West Gate, the trains still under constant construction and calibration, looming over them like a monolith that stretched towards both ends of the world.

One day, he thought, it might be the way in which they'll make their return.

It took less than an hour for them to cross the city limits.

No traffic, no delays, no fanfare. Gate security didn't even so much as give them a second glance.

It was as if Zootopia had simply...let them go.

John let loose the breath he didn't realize he was holding. He had all the time in the world to ruminate later. Right now, all there was was the open road ahead of them.

The world outside of Zootopia, despite not being nearly so grand, was simple, yet beautiful in its own way. There were the fields and rolling hills of greenery and smaller homes, contrasting the towering structures and sprawling apartment complexes they had become accustomed to throughout the years.

"I wonder if we'll ever get used to places like this," John heard his mate wonder aloud.

"We will, in time. It'll be all our little one knows, but if he's anything like his mama, he'll be just fine."

"Oh? His papa's pretty quick on the draw, too," Monica said as she gave her husband a gentle look before kissing his cheek.

"Sweetie, I need to focus on the drive, and you need to take it easy."

"I'm pregnant with your cheeky spawn, not riddled with disease," the vixen countered with a scoff before her muzzle curled into a teasing smirk. "Though sometimes I wonder if there's a difference. I'm basically housing your parasitic progeny in my guts."

John answered by caressing her thigh with a brush of his tail. "Just worried for the light of my life and the precious parasite in her gorgeous belly is all, love."

"Well, this light of your _life_ wants to _live_ a little. Come on, this is our first day in the world outside of Zootopia! Clean air, boundless horizon, and most importantly, not a single butt jerk soul around to tell us what we can or cannot do!"

John chuckled. "Alright, you've persuaded me, cogent wife of mine." He briefly checked the dim dashboard clock. "We've got plenty of daylight to burn before we have to find a hotel somewhere anyway, might as well make the most of it. So, what do you have in mind?"

Monica reached into the glove compartment, snatching her favorite pair of aviator sunglasses with a paw and holding a cassette in the other. "We take the scenic route," she said with a toothy smirk, snapping the audio tape into the cassette deck. "Played to our very own personal soundtrack."

John felt that one particular smile that always found its way to his muzzle when the familiar tune filled in and around the space about them as he watched his mate, matching the instrumental beat for beat, her shoulders swaying to the music as she began to sing along:

 _In this life in this confusion, there's talking heads with false conclusions to prove... their views._

 _But there's one thing that's irrefutable, guaranteed, and indisputably true... for you... and me too._

 _That you and me_ _are united. Indivisible and undivided._

And he, as was tradition, picked up right where she left off:

 _Well, thank my heavens and bless my soul, you and me, babe, are two parts of a whole and we'll be together... forever and ever._

 _Well, your eyes hit mine in love struck blue, there's nothing ever taking me away from you, so fill me full…_

They turn to each other, hearts swelling and pooling over into grand smiles and bright gazes.

" _We're Two Parts of a Whole._ "

With spirits high and music cranked full blast to the top, the Wildes drove off towards their new future, leaving the grand metropolis of Zootopia to become naught but a dot in the distant background.

* * *

After a while on the road, the tedium of the drive gave way and the two of them had gotten lost in time and the scenery.

Monica had chosen their first day outside of Zootopia to develop the habit of getting her husband to pull up to the side of road every so often so that she could snap photos of what she considered Koaladak moments to show their soon-to-be-born kit.

And so because of the picture-taking spree, the foxes found themselves a little off the main roads and more on the off beaten paths.

"Are you sure we shouldn't've cut through Podunk, John? This road is a little out of the way."

"Trust me, I heard that gas prices in Deerbrooke are basically highway robbery. It'll cost us more than a pretty penny in the long run, though I guess all we'll really have to worry about buying are carrots anyway."

"Well, if canned foods couldn't do us in then carrot stew sure as heck won't be the thing to finish the job," Monica said as she looked out the window. She was enjoying the scenery and was amazed by the sheer number of plots filled by carrots and other assorted vegetables. "Huh, I was expecting to see a lot more rabbits out here. They don't actually hide in burrows all the livelong day, do they?"

"I'm sure it's only a matter of time, dear," John said. "After all, there _is_ a place called Bunnyburrow right around the corner."

"You're probably—" Monica's eyes widened. "A hundred percent right. Look, I spy with my foxy little eyes some locals."

John peered into the distance. "Huh, so there are. Their truck looks like it's seen better days, though."

Monica shrugged. "Well, I'm sure someone will come along and help them soon enough."

"Of course. _We_ 're here after all."

Monica nodded. "Yep, we certainly…" She paused before turning to her mate. "Er, run that by me again?"

"We're going to help them," John said. "I doubt they're close enough to home and they obviously need a paw by the look of things. And as my uncle always said, 'do unto others as you would have them do unto you.' Besides, these people will basically be our neighbors for the foreseeable future, so we should give a show of goodwill at the very least."

Monica gave a closer inspection once they drew near enough to the two rabbits: the male one seemed to be struggling to get the car started with the way he was tinkering with the engine while the doe hovered by in the passenger seat. Even without the scent to tip it off, she could tell they were in a state of panic.

"Alright," Monica conceded before tugging on his sleeve, the way she always did when she got nervous. "Just, be _careful_ , okay?"

John took the paw on his sleeve and gave it a kiss. "Everything will be fine, Sweetheart. I'm just checking to see if we can help out in some way."

"I really hope this isn't some sort of fox-trap," he heard her mutter. He could only smile wanly in return. They had already passed the rabbits and their truck by that time so he slowed down and pulled over quickly before he got out of the car.

"Hello there!" he hollered as he jogged over. "Do you need any help?"

The buck had yet to look up from the truck as he seemed engrossed in doing his best to identify the problem. At the sound of the fox's greeting he pulled his head out of the toolbox placed above the bed of the truck.

"Oh, thank goodness!" the buck exclaimed with the sort of voice expected from a young mammal. "My wife and I are in a spot of trou…Whoa Nelly!"

The rabbit practically threw himself backwards once he realized _what_ stood before him. The way his eyes widened would have been comical if not for the sheer terror behind them blazing like a beacon.

Before John could react beyond blinking from surprise, the rabbit pulled a sturdy looking steel pipe out from the toolbox and leapt to the passenger's side to defend his equally frightened-looking companion like a quaking rabbit knight in grimy overalls.

"John?" came Monica's nervous voice from behind him. He didn't need to look back to see his mate out of the car with a look of extreme worry flashing across her features like a warning sign.

"I'm fine," John called over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off the rabbits before him. "It's just a little misunderstanding. Get back in the—"

It hit him like a tidal wave. That smell of fear, magnified to untold levels, the type of fear that extended beyond concern for one's own safety. The sight of not one but two foxes must have set the rabbit off something fierce.

"Hey! You, back!" The rabbit swung the pipe like it was a baseball bat, making the fox step back reflexively. "I d-don't want any trouble, you hear!? So get going b-before I do s-something we'll all regret!"

That's when his nose picked up another scent. A smell grown distinctly familiar to him in the last six months. A scent that was a promise of burgeoning life, of a new, additional future.

John looked to the scared young doe in the truck, who was now urging the buck to get inside to the safety of their vehicle with her. She was sweating from large ears to toe and wincing from a pain that most likely stemmed from more than just scare-cramps.

There was no doubt about it. The two were mates, and pregnant to boot. And from the looks of it, their truck probably fell into a state of disrepair during their way to the nearest hospital.

He had been considering exit strategies when the pipe came out. The skill of Running Away was vital for any fox who valued self-preservation. That was why they were out here in the first place, after all. Running way had become second nature at this point, despite what all foxes tell themselves.

But now, with the little tidbit provided by his dutiful sense of smell, he knew in his heart of hearts that he wasn't about to walk away without at least _trying_.

"Easy there," John managed to articulate through the racing thoughts and heartbeat, holding out his open paws in what he hoped was a non-threatening manner. If he could talk down a belligerent lion and bear from getting into a bar brawl, surely he could calm a couple frantic rabbits without getting a steel pipe to the muzzle for his troubles. "I don't mean any harm, sir. I just wanted to help."

"Y-you're a fox!" the rabbit exclaimed, as though that one fact explained the existential workings of the world at large, and shakily swung the makeshift weapon in his paws once more as if in emphasis.

John stepped back again out of instinct, well out of harm's way. But even so, those simple words had inflicted more than the pipe did at this point.

The first couple of souls they meet out on the open road beyond the high walls of Zootopia, and they couldn't get away fast enough, just because the paws offering the much needed assistance were from a predator — a fox.

He saw their faces. The good people of Zootopia. The mothers who shielded their children when he walked by on the street. The police officers who pulled him over out of the blue to 'have a friendly chat.' The bankers who refused to grant him a loan even with a clean background check _just because_.

Was this just how things were?

Was this just how things were supposed to go?

Prey fears predator and everyone hates the fox and that was it? Was this just how it was all meant to be?

Maybe it was.

Maybe he was the one who didn't have his head on straight.

Maybe expecting anything different was just a lofty dream.

Like Suitopia.

Like hope for a better life, a better tomorrow.

He stared at the sky.

It was a good day.

A fine day to say goodbye.

And a great day to give up.

It was also a swell day to get _angry_.

Any other day, he would have thrown in the towel, taken the path of least resistance, the way of a fox's life. But that day, outside the confines of the city of his birth, John Wilde had enough of running away, of forcing himself not to care when he _cared so much_. He had to accept that the universe wasn't about to give them a break anytime soon, and that whatever hope he harbored had to be fought fang and claw for.

So be it. Because despite the hardships he had faced, he had also been given so much in return. There were plenty of reasons to fight. He couldn't run away.

 _Not today._

He must have voiced his thoughts aloud, judging by the startled and confused reaction from the rabbit and the jolt of surprise he sensed from Monica.

But that didn't matter. What mattered was that the little spark, the one that came to be when he had been little more than a snot-nosed kit who wanted to be a Junior Ranger Scout, a mammal who embodied the values of bravery, loyalty, helpfulness, and trustworthiness, the one spark that dimmed to naught but a speck of light in the darkness, had been given enough fuel to make a roaring comeback.

John took a step forward and stood firm.

"Look, I get it. I'm a fox, you're a rabbit. Predator; prey. We're supposed to be enemies on separate ends of the great divide and all that nonsense. But you know what? I'm more than just a fox. I'm also a husband, a mammal who loves his mate, a simple soul who can't imagine a life without her at my side for the rest of my days. And soon, I'm going to be a father, someone who would stop at nothing to protect his family. _Just like you_."

He took a moment to appreciate the look of eyes widened out of something other than fear and did not miss the way those eyes flitted to the side and no doubt at his mate.

"So I _get it_. I know you're scared. Probably the most scared you've been in your entire life. But right now you're off the road in the middle of nowhere, your truck has seen better days, the nearest hospital is probably at least a dozen miles away, and your mate's going into labor _right this moment_."

He took another step, and felt his spirits soar when the pipe didn't raise like a red flag along with it.

"Keep the pipe if you have to. Do whatever it takes if it makes you feel safer. I'd even stay behind and let you take my car on any other day if that would help. But I can't. Not today. Because like you I have those I have to protect above all else. I know you understand. I can't take that risk. But I also can't stand by and drive away and leave someone else to their own devices when they sorely need the help. You know I understand. If I walk away now, I'll never be able to forgive myself. We have to _try_ and trust each other, if only for our own sakes."

John held out his paw, once again. "Let me help you. _Please_."

A gust of wind swept through the silence between them.

Then, the steel pipe dropped to the ground with a resounding clang.

* * *

It was your average busy day at Tri-Burrows Mammalia Hospital.

Being the only healthcare institution within the next hundred miles or so that was outfitted with medical equipment more than just mortar and pestle and a slew of home remedy recipes, this naturally meant TMH received a steady stream of patients at all hours of the day, seven days a week.

Needless to say, the hospital saw its fair share of interesting cases over the years. Like Mr. Baardvark, one of the local bug farmers, who came in earlier this morning to the urgent care department for his bi-monthly check-up and because he somehow managed to swallow a harmonica. Or the young, troubled Velvet from Deerbrooke, who may be suffering from schizophrenia as well as a mild case of gender dysphoria, claiming to be a rabbit who magically transformed from a stuffed animal into the living mammal he was now through the power of a fairy's kiss. He was currently being kept overnight at the hospital for observation.

Other than those curious incidences, it looked like the day was going to end on a noneventful note.

Then a red car came rumbling up to the hospital entrance, the sound of its tires grinding to a screeching halt definitely prickling a few ears and turning several heads, especially when moments later walked in a bunny couple, who some quickly recognized as the young newlyweds from the growing town of Bunnyburrow, and even more so when the fairer half of the pair looked very pregnant and seemed to be trying really hard not to dump her payload on the spot.

And if that wasn't cause for interest and concern, the sight of the two foxes, one of which appeared to be curiously pregnant as well, that followed in minutes after definitely caught people's attentions. Though the TMH saw mammals of all species and walks of life, the bulk of the hospital staff and patient population naturally consisted of smaller prey species such as rabbits, squirrels, lemmings, what-have-you, which naturally led to the textbook situation of some choosing to back away with a good round of glares and quite a bit of yelping.

Thankfully, even though they were reasonably preoccupied with their situation, the rabbit couple still had the presence of mind to remember to vouch for the foxes who graciously helped them in their time of need, and though their reassurances were not enough to completely dispel the suspicions and wariness of the two predators' presence, at the very least they were able to dissuade anyone from tackling the foxes or some other such unneeded nonsence.

John helped his mate into one of the chairs before plopping down in the seat next to hers, releasing a relieved breath as he willed his to body settle down from all the excitement.

They were currently situated in the lobby of the maternity ward. The buck they helped out was over yonder, pacing about as he fretted over the wellbeing of his wife and their soon-to-be-born child(ren), periodically wandering over to the double doors that led to the delivery room and visibly holding himself back from barging in.

John felt himself smile at the sight of the anxious rabbit, grabbing and fumbling with his overalls and ears, feet thumping at such speeds like it was powered by a jackhammer that it was a wonder there wasn't a rabbit-foot-shaped indent decorating the floor yet. It was like watching a preview of things to come. The fox could only hope to be less of a spectacle of overt nervous ticks when it was finally his turn a week later.

For now, though, he could lean back into his seat and relax as they awaited to see how everything would turn out.

He felt Monica tug on his arm. "John?" she whispered, what seemed to be a slight tremble in her voice.

John simpered, thinking that his mate was feeling a bit jittery from the day's events, and brought the paw that pulled on his sleeve to his muzzle.

"What is it, Sweetheart?" he asked, pressing his lips to the back of her paw before gazing into her eyes, ready to offer what comfort and reassurances he could.

"I think my water just broke."


End file.
